


The Night Grows Ever Longer

by darknutmeg



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Don't yell at me, Horror, Hunter Alec Lightwood, Hunter Magnus Bane, I don't know all of my bloodborne lore, I just wanted these two to be badass hunters, I mostly wanted to write descriptive gothic horror, M/M, Monsters, Or Hunters to Lovers, References to Lovecraft, Some Plot, Strangers to Lovers, Swords, cool weapons, enjoy, or rivals to lovers, whatever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:51:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21750328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darknutmeg/pseuds/darknutmeg
Summary: On the streets of Yharnam Hunter Magnus Bane encounters a mysterious stranger, one he soon learns shares the same goal as he. Make it out alive.But will they?Or a Malec Bloodborne AU because why not?
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> This idea came to me as most of them do, late one night and wouldn't leave me alone. I have missed writing descriptive horror and this gives me a way to do some with the addition of a world I adore. I don't know how long this will be or where it will go or when I will finish. I will let this one take me where it wants to go. 
> 
> So come along if you will as we traverse the streets of Yarnham looking for a mysterious stranger. 
> 
> Enjoy ;)
> 
> (As always if you want to tweet along or yell at me use the tag #darknutmeg)

A hideous squelching came as the sword pulled free from the fallen lycanthrope. The gesture jostling the beast, smearing blood and bits of blackened fur across the ground. The creatures body was still warm, saliva dripping from it’s muzzle in thick threads.

Magnus' attention was abruptly pulled from his downed prey as the sound of howling came from a distance, a sign that more of the creatures kind were ahead and his day was growing ever longer. 

With a heavy sigh Magnus wiped his sword across his blood stained clothes before shoving it back into the sheath at his waist. Pulling the hood of his long coat over his head, he set down the cobblestone street once more. The heels of his boots clacking loudly. 

Lantern light flickered across the path, casting an eerie glow. According to the clock tower looming ahead, it was half past noon but the sun never shone in Yharnam. There was no light in desolate places. 

The lycanthropes were not the only dangers lurking on the streets of the cursed town, villagers gone mad from blood fever stalked the streets with pitchforks, torches and other makeshift weapons. They roamed in packs, hunting for victims to unleash their fury on. Their downed bodies lay crumpled amongst the other fallen beasts. 

Yharnam was befallen by a curse, old an ancient. It spread quickly through the town and outlining forests, bringing death with it. The few alive remained locked behind their doors, windows boarded over. Magnus hears them speaking quietly in the night but has not encountered another living and sane soul. 

Besides that of the mysterious stranger. 

Four nights prior Magnus had heard footsteps and the sounds of swords clashing as he was hunkered down in an abandoned apothecary for the evening but the figure had yet to make an appearance during the few moments of light Yharnam experienced. Whoever they were chose the cover of night to launch their attacks on the towns plethora of demons and creatures. If it was in fact another Hunter then Magnus was anxious to make their acquaintance. Whether they be friend or foe.

The bridge leading to the clock tower which filled the skyline ahead looms closer, crumbled statues, broken bodies of fallen villagers and other monstrosities litter the pathway. His main concern is the crowd of circling lycanthropes. Their dark brown fur glistening in the pale light. Magnus slows his steps and creeps along the edge of the stairway leading to the bridge, careful to stay out of sight. Though sound is not the real issue, the creatures sense of smell was profound, hence the reason Magnus was covered in as much blood and viscera as he could manage. Masking his own scent allowed him to move through the streets undetected when he needed to. 

He also spent time observing the townsfolk movements, when they were most active and the areas of the town they seemed to congregate in. Right now it was the clock tower which was Magnus’ current destination. Magnus didn’t know what lay past that building but he desperately wanted to find out. Which would mean confronting the crowd currently traversing the bridge. 

He was just considering his options when a succession of shattering sounds came, glass hitting the ground and the smell of fire. Homemade fire bombs. The lycanthropes began howling in pain. Magnus peeked his head out from behind the staircase and was met with carnage. Many had already fallen to the ground and were writhing, kicking and clawing at the ground desperate to escape the flames deadly clutches. But their efforts were in vain, the smell of burning hair and flesh soon filled the air. 

Magnus looked above hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious attacker and was pleased when a figure appeared on the rooftop of the clock tower. A man draped in a long grey cloak, a scarf partially covering his face, just his eyes were visible. The man's attention abruptly went from the fallen lycanthropes to Magnus staring up at him and in a flash he turned on his heel and vanished out of sight. Magnus sighed, fighting the urge to yell after him but it wouldn’t do to draw unnecessary attention to himself. 

“Dammit.” Magnus cursed under his breath, “Who are you?” It was then that one of the lycanthropes looked up and met his eyes. Magnus cursed again, pulling his sword free and ran into the fray once more. 

And the night grew ever longer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I'm going to update this in small chunks as often as I feel motivated to. It seems to be working well for me.

Small pebbles tumbled off the cliffside into the murky water below, the figure crouched high upon the ledge gripped his feet harder along the rocky terrain, trying to maintain balance on his precarious perch. His eyes were focused on the creature in the centre of the lake below. A treacherous foe he had been hunting silently for days, waiting for the opportune time to strike. 

Resting quietly on the dark glass like surface was a large multi eyed spider. Rom was the creatures name, a Great One, a creation of those who had cursed the town with their failed experiments. 

Surrounding the beast was a league of spindly legged companions, walking in circles like soldiers creating a protective barrier. The hunter had considered attacking the beast from afar but the walkway leading up to the lake was too far and he was short a long-range weapon. They would need to get up close and personal. But his minions would have to be dealt with first. There were at least a dozen of them, their bloated grey bodies filled with deadly poison. One bite and it would be over for him and he was not about to die in the water. 

There was another option, however, one only considered a mere days ago when he had first noticed the stranger walking the streets of Yarnham. A hunter who appeared unlike the others, not overrun with the fever and the mans goal seemed to be the same as the hunters own. To escape the dream which had now become an unending nightmare. Having an ally would be a strategic move, a smart one. However, the hunter had been content to stick to the shadows. Keeping away from watchful eyes. Though there were not many sane ones remaining. The hunt, the lust for blood had consumed nearly every soul in the town. Those who fled stayed locked behind their doors. Candlelight flickering in windows was the only sign of their existence. 

He gripped his saw cleaver tightly, the hilt of the weapon digging into his gloved hands. The weapon handle was wrapped in scraps of torn fabric to tighten the grip but it still often dug painfully into his hand. The curse of the hunter was the weight of their weapons. 

A splash of water came, jerking his attention back to the lake below the high cliff to see a flurry of round bodies and long legs joining the group already congregated there. Rom was summoning more foot soldiers, now was not the time for a fight. 

With a sigh the hunter turned on his heel back towards the forest pathway he had come from. The battle could wait. The night was far from over. 

The smell of blood and fire was thick in the air, mingling together in a strange coppery haze. Magnus pulled his scarf, which he rarely wore, over his mouth. It wouldn’t do to inhale anymore of what was lingering in the air. 

He had managed to slay the beasts patrolling the bridge leading towards the clock tower. The rest had been taken out by the mysterious hunter, their bodies still smoldering quietly on the cobblestone street. 

Ahead was a small-town square with a stone fountain in the centre, a statue of a praying angel. An angel who now had the mangled body of a dead lycanthrope tied to it, a cruel tribute to the horror which had consumed the town. Magnus regarded the beast briefly; blood caked its brown fur, and it’s head was lolled off to one side. He had slain many of these monstrosities since arriving in Yarnham but their mere presence, living or dead, never failed to make him shudder. 

Turning back from the beast he headed down the archway past the clock tower where a brass lantern stood affixed in a circle pattern of stone. Magnus placed one gloved hand on top of the bright white, inhaling a deep breath. Before long the nightmarish world around him faded away. Magnus awoke crouched in front of a gravestone, words in an unfamiliar language chiseled upon the dark stone. 

A soft voice spoke quietly behind him, "Welcome home good Hunter.”


	3. Chapter 3

Yharnam exists in a dream. A place between reality and a nightmare. Outside of these places lies the Hunter’s dream, a place where there is no blood, no smells of fire and ash. The dawn is forever breaking behind the manor which lays upon its grounds in brilliant shades of red and orange. 

Much of the space is covered by a large cemetery. Foliage covers the ground surrounding the numerous headstones in shades of dark green and crimson. The stones go on for what feels like miles, into a field of grass. Faceless strangers lost to the hunt. 

There is no fear, no pain. no horrors in this dream. Only the doll, who grants safety and protection from those who await outside the sanctuary. She is dressed in a wide skirted black dress, her head adorned with a lace bonnet, pale skin showing through it. She is a mystery, where she came from, what she's doing in this moment. But her presence offers comfort. “My lady, I am relieved to see you again.” Magnus smiles with a slight bow. The doll offers him a nod and a wan smile in return. She touches his shoulder gently and a warmth spreads across his body. He is refreshed. Revived. Ready to face the dream once more. 

Magnus bows before turning to glance up at the orange coloured sky behind the manor, a comforting vision compared to the darkness in the skies of Yharnam. “Thank you my lady, I shall take my leave.” The doll nods with a small smile and bows her head once more. She stands stoic as when he approached. 

Magnus walks carefully back to the gravestones, this one is marked with a familiar name. A place Magnus knows all too well. Perhaps different prey or the elusive stranger may await him there. He kneels touching his hand to the cold stone and the world fades away once more. 

Moment's later he opens his eyes to find his hands set upon a bed of pine needles, their sharp points digging into his knees. 

He stands, observing the darkened forest surrounding him. But his attention is soon pulled away by the sound of screams, human ones this time. A most unusual occurrence. 

There is a gang of villagers ahead ,some armed with torches, others with pitchforks and planks of wood. Whatever weaponry they could obtain. They are crowded around the window of a small cottage, candlelight blaring behind,casting a glow across the forest floor. A woman is screaming inside for them to leave. Her cries falling on deaf ears. The gang is growling and banging on the bare door of her home.

Magnus crouches, keeping his footsteps light and drives his sword cleanly into the leg of one of the villagers. The man howls, turning to face Magnus along with his comrades. Their eyes are red rimmed, lips curled back in a cruel snarl. These are no longer men. There are six in total, Magnus may be a little out-numbered but that has never stopped him before.

He gracefully dodges swipes from rusty pitchforks and torches, slicing at what limbs are presented to him before his combatants like crumpled on ground. Blood pooling around them, more is splashed on Magnus’ clothes and hands which he wipes against his long coat along with his sword. 

“You handle that sword well Hunter but your stance could use some work.” 

Startled by the mysterious voice, Magnus raises his sword once more turning from his fallen prey to see a figure observing him through the moonlight. A tall man draped in a long grey coat, which even with the distance Magnus could see splashes of blood across the dark fabric. A scarf was covering half of the man's face and an oddly shaped hat that Magnus could best describe as crow like, was set atop his head. The man stood staring at him, his weapon, a jagged edged saw blade clenched tightly in his hand. “Who are you?” 

The man stepped gracefully towards Magnus, his feet soundless on the forest floor. He tilted his head as if in thought or considering the person in front of him. Whether this was a truth he wished to share with a stranger. 

“There are many here in Yarnham who have wandered from the path of the hunt, I am here to send them back.” 

Magnus pondered this for a moment. Since the hunt began many had been turned, hunter turned on hunter and the packs of ravenous creatures roaming the land were set free. The cursed hunters joining their cause. Magnus had heard tale of a hunter who hunted those who had lost their way, it appeared this was not a myth.

“What can I call you hunter?” 

The man tipped his hat forward with one gloved finger. “Alexander.” And without another word he turned back towards the forest path ahead and vanished into the fog covered trees. 

“Well Alexander." Magnus said into the quiet of the night. "I have a feeling you and I are going to become very good friends." He sheathed his sword once more and followed the sound of retreating footsteps into the dark woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on Twitter - @nutmeg27 or Tumblr - darknutmeg


	4. Chapter 4

The woods bordering Yharnam were home to many dangerous foes. Not the least of which was the fog Magnus was currently squinting his eyes at, it muted ones vision just enough so you could not see more then a few feet ahead. The Forbidden Woods were a vast and foreboding space, to say the very least and apatly named. 

There was the fog, the dark shadows cast by the trees and, the slithering.

The other danger waiting across the grounds of the forest was armies of snakes. Their long pale silver bodies reflecting in the moonlight, gliding across the forest floor. The only way to safely evade them was to run, run and hope you didn’t encounter other more deadly predators. Which was a risk in every corner of Yharnam. Behind every enemy layer a deadlier one. 

Movement caught Magnus’ eye through the fog, a figure cloaked in dark clothes, it had to be the hunter. What was he doing out here? What was it he seeking and where had he come from? Magnus would get his answers one way or the other. But to do so he would need to be quick and quiet. Which meant relying on the trees. 

Magnus crept quietly keeping his footsteps light, the ground beneath his feet was riddled with needles and branches, waiting to be snapped. His eyes were in a constant switch between the forest floor beneath him and the fog ahead. Magnus reached an arm out feeling around for the rough bark of a nearby tree before finally landing on one. He glanced through the trees large branches. It would suffice for his purposes. 

Magnus began climbing carefully until he reached the uppermost branch, then peeked his head above the treeline, the path through the forest was not far ahead. He could climb through the remaining trees to get there, if he was careful. Time to take a chance. 

*

Landing on light feet at the pathline, eyes searching through the mist which had lifted a bit. There was a cemetery up ahead, various headstones littering the space and the glow from lamplight could be seen through the shadows. It was either the hunter or something he did not wish to meet. 

Unholstering his saw blade Magnus crept quietly towards the space, until the figure carrying the swaying oil lamp came into view. The hat atop their head was unmistakable. 

“You’re following me.” The hunter said, resting his lamplight atop of a gravestone before turning to face Magnus with his arms crossed. A scowl across his handsome face. 

“I am, what of it?” Magnus replied, sheathing his weapon. The man didn't appear to be a threat, if he wanted to kill Magnus he would have done it by now. 

“Why?” 

“I haven’t seen another human face, an alive one, anyway in who knows how many days. My curiosity is piqued, what can I say?” 

“What do you want hunter?” Alexander peered at Magnus from under his hat. “You don’t seem as if you’ve been taken over by the madness.” 

“No, but I’ve seen it.” Magnus said, his voice barely above a whisper, remembering the crazed look in the eyes of the townsfolk he had encountered during his travels through Yharnam. Some were killing creatures, while many had turned on each other. He could still recall the screams and bellowing of the hunters and their prey. “I’m not here to cause you any trouble. I simply wish to get back to my home.” 

Alexander glanced off behind him, perhaps checking to see if anyone else was around. “I may be able to assist you, help you escape the dream. If you’re willing do me a favour in return.” 

Escape had been Magnus' only goal since awakening in what had quickly become an endless nightmare days ago. "But how?" 

"There are ways which I will not divulge at this time." Alexander reached over to retrieve his lamplight, holding up between them. "Will you help me or not?" 

“Fine, fine, what is you require?” 

The other man turned off towards the cemetaries entrance, calling after himself. “Meet me at Oedon Chapel, before sunset. Don’t be late.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter @nutmeg27 or tumblr @darknutmeg


End file.
